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Obama’s Annus Horribilis.

I loved 2016. It was the year that changed everything. The evil queen’s been dispatched, there’s a revolution in the works and you and I look excitedly to 2017. Thank you for your payronage and faith and Happy New Year to you and yours.

#LionelNation in Northern Ireland
The world mourns yet another celebrity who dies prematurely over and lifestyles, decisions and deadly habits. Enter automourn. 

The greatest Xmas lyrics ever. Bar none. Thank you, Mr. Lake. (10 November 1947 – 7 December 2016)
 
 

It’s a mental illness. An inability and refusal to confront and address the obvious. Hillary Clinton lost. Donald Trump won. In the few weeks Obama has taken every side on every position.  Russia did, Russia didn’t.  Hillary was robbed, Hillary screwed up.  I failed, I was a success.  I have brought hope, there is no hope.  Everything is wonderful, everything sucks.  The FBI is right, the FBI is wrong.  
Hegel is very impressed.  But he’s still waiting for the synthesis.

It’s lonely knowing you’re right. You’re met relentlessly by the simple-minded and trite. They never seem to wonder what’s right or wrong. We just know. 

Create the meme. And keep repeating it. Don’t worry, Americans don’t read, research and have the attention span of a gnat. They don’t question connections alleged as to Putin and Russia somehow affecting and throwing the election. Why would a voter care what Podesta’s emails contained or alleged? It’s preposterous and redefines specious. And your MSM question not and nothing. 

Verity. Donald Trump will likely be one of the greatest Presidents of our republic. And Obama one of the most ineffectual. Meanwhile, Hillary apologists are trying to reconfigure the logic anent Trump’s appointees. They’ve nothing to say since abandoning the Russian hack bit.

Prolegomenon. Let us begin with an immutable fact of human behavior, specifically contemporary American behavior. Americans simply hate the truth. The troublesome truth, the uncomfortable and (dare I remind you) the inconvenient truth. Truth that bristles and frightens and awakens and piques. Truth that confronts us with the lie of contemporary fable masked as history. History, as Tolstoy reminds us, would be a wonderful thing if only it were true. Truth would be a wonderful thing if only it were pleasant.

Fake News? That’s redundant.